Shot across a sensory overload of formats—Alexa Mini, iPhone, DV, Hi-8—this audacious genre blast detonates as a uniquely Australian Gothic cyber-horror, as if scraped from the darkest corners of the internet and reassembled into something alive, unstable, and watching you back.

In the decaying basement of an abandoned suburban home, unemployed filmmaker Max Wren builds a shrine to obsession, obsessively archiving the work of Lenore—a controversial online performer whose sudden disappearance pulls him into a spiraling digital void. What begins as compulsive documentation mutates into a fractured, intimate tribute to someone he may never have really known.

But Max is never alone. As night deepens, intrusions breach his isolation—ghosts of a buried past, two suspicious police officers closing in, and a malevolent presence seemingly embedded within his own editing suite. Reality begins to fracture as time collapses and the footage itself appears to resist control. As obsession curdles into delusion, Lenore’s disappearance unravels in layers rather than answers, exposing not only a tangled mystery but Max’s own buried history. The archive becomes an autopsy. The tribute becomes a confession. The filmmaker becomes the subject.

A fever dream of super-fandom and terminal online identity, LENORE traces the collapse of a man who has mistaken surveillance for intimacy and curation for control. In the end, the disappearance he set out to solve becomes irrelevant. The real horror is what he discovers when the camera finally turns inward.